


my love like a crown

by misskatieleigh



Category: God's Own Country (2017)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, obligatory valentine's smut, romanians do it with flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 11:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13680510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: Gheorghe wakes to the sensation of warmth slipping down his back, two knuckles pressed just so along his spine. It brings a hazy memory of a mouth following that same path, warm breath and wet tongue. He shivers, arching toward it on instinct.ORObligatory Valentine's Day smut. ♥





	my love like a crown

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [rogueshadows](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueshadows) for encouraging me, as always. 
> 
> Side note: Johnny is "John" here, because this is in Gheorghe's POV and that's how I see him thinking of Johnny.

Gheorghe wakes to the sensation of warmth slipping down his back, two knuckles pressed just so along his spine. It brings a hazy memory of a mouth following that same path, warm breath and wet tongue. He shivers, arching toward it on instinct. 

“Time is it?” he asks, the sun higher in the sky than he’s used to being in bed for. John’s hand moves back up, between his shoulder blades and higher to scrape through the mess of his hair. 

“Time t’stay right there.” Gheorghe twists his head on the pillow, a pleasant heat pooling in his stomach when John’s hand moves with him to stay on the back of his head. The mattress dips beside him, John’s knees pressed against his hip for a moment before he lays down alongside Gheorghe and busses a soft kiss over his shoulder. John’s mostly dressed, in the soft t-shirt and sweatpants that he wears to bed some nights, color on his cheeks like he’s been out in the cold.

“Th’ animals?” His voice is thick with sleep still, words cut off so he almost sounds the way John does when he talks. 

Another kiss, moving lower, John shifting so he has one leg hooked over Gheorghe’s. His hips press forward, a slow rock against Gheorghe’s thigh, the sheets sliding over his skin with the motion. 

“All set,” he says, tugging gently at Gheorghe’s hair once, then again when his eyes flutter shut. “Nan’s gone into town, errands and such. No reason atall to leave this bed.”

Gheorghe ruts down against the mattress, cock hardening at the attention and the suggestive sound of John’s voice. John lets go of his hair, pushes himself up and shifts over until he’s draped along Gheorghe’s back, his knees pushing Gheorghe’s knees apart. 

“Not that I am complaining,” Gheorghe says, pausing for a breath when John slides a hand down his side and tucks his fingers underneath, trying to wriggle between the mattress and his stomach, “but why am I sleeping in today?”

John has moved on to kissing his shoulders, softly nuzzling over his skin as he slides lower. “S’Valentine’s Day, innit? Not very good at romance n’all, but e’ryone likes a lie in, I figure.”

Gheorghe lifts his hips, encouraging John’s wandering fingers over the jutting bone of his hip. “Oh, right. I forget, we don’t really do that in Romania.”

John stops short, pushing up and to the side to look at Gheorghe’s face. “What d’you mean you don’ do Valentine’s Day?”

It’s amusing, the dismay on his face, forehead wrinkling up as his eyes widen. Gheorghe uses the distraction to turn over, pulling John back down onto his chest. “It’s okay, we have Dragobete instead. I’ll have to go pick you some flowers and chase you around, see if you’ll let me kiss you.”

John flushes, pink to the tips of his ears and down his throat, his mouth blooming into a smile. “Don’ have t’chase me, I’m right here.”

Wrapping his arms around John's back, Gheorghe pulls him close, kisses across the width of that smile, the slick promise of his parted lips. John's hitched breath spurs him on, his soft whimper more so. For a man that once refused to be touched, John basks in it now, like a cat pushing into his hands to be petted. 

He rucks up John's shirt and pushes at the waistband of his sweatpants, wriggles the sheets out of the way until they're skin to skin. John is hard against the hollow of his hip, already rocking against him impatiently. It’s gratifying, to be wanted this much.

“Okay, motănel, tell me what we are going to do with all this free time. Just this?” Gheorghe cants his hips up, his hands on John's ass to hold him in place.

“Fuck,” John says emphatically, eyes slamming shut.

“A better plan already.” Gheorghe kisses a path along John's jaw, nips at the skin just under his ear, sucks a bruise along his collar bone. “You want to fuck me?”

Swallowing heavily, John shakes his head. “No - no, want you t’ - want you. Please.” The last word is practically a whisper, a huff of warm breath. “Please,” he says again, a little more sure. Gheorghe pulls him down into another kiss, licking into his gasping mouth. He breaks off reluctantly, then rolls them onto their sides, rooting around under the pillows for the bottle of slick.

Rolling further onto his back, John's eyes watch him, blown dark with want. He reaches for Gheorghe's cock, but not like before, harsh and demanding. This is a question, a curved palm and a slow stroke, John's thumb teasing at the head and sliding his foreskin down over the sensitive skin. His answer is another kiss, found slick clasped in his hand as he settles between John’s welcoming thighs. 

He coats his fingers and works John open, wringing out soft keening noises and dotting John’s throat with bruises and teeth marks that will linger for the day. Then, after a rasped out, ‘ _get on w’it already, m’not made of glass’_ that’s breathless and desperate all at once, Gheorghe presses into the tight clutch of John’s body. There’s a held breath of anticipation, John’s hands curled against his back. Gheorghe reaches between them, finding John’s cock and stroking over the velvet hardness of him. John arches into the touch, hooking his ankles around the back of Gheorghe’s thighs and urging him to move. 

The push and pull of this is familiar, chasing the building pleasure, hips snapping forward and driving the breath out of John’s lungs. He doesn’t last long, not with John pushing back into every thrust, biting his lip to keep from crying out, beautiful and open beneath him. Gheorghe comes with a flood of heat, white flashing behind his eyes as he squeezes them shut. 

John whimpers, hips still rocking against him as he pulls out and slides down the bed. He pushes two fingers back inside, his other hand still wrapped around John’s cock as he takes it into his mouth, a burst of salt and bitter on his tongue. John grips one hand in his hair and the other in the bedding, feet braced against the bed. 

“Fuck, oh f-fuck me,” he pants out, voice cracking.

Gheorghe pulls off long enough to say, “I am”, before John’s coming, a spill of semen across Gheorghe’s mouth and sliding down onto his own stomach. Gheorghe works him through it, looking up into John’s face as he licks the taste off his mouth just to watch him flush red. 

“Y’re going t’kill me, fuck.” John laughs though, bringing his arm up to cover his face and turning to look out the window. Gheorghe’s heart swells with happiness, and he rolls to one side, using the sheet to wipe at his face and hands. They’ll have to do some wash, save Deirdre from cleaning up their mess, but that brings him joy too, all the tiny domesticities of sharing a life with someone. 

He doubts he’ll find flowers here, the spring is too far off for strawberry blooms, but his love is smiling, and that’s enough to make every day worthwhile. 

**Author's Note:**

> My brief research into Valentine's Day traditions in Romania turned up [this article](https://rolandia.eu/dragobete-celebrating-love-romanian-style/). As to the accuracy of this in terms of where Gheorghe is from, I know not. I apologize for my bastardization of the Yorkshire accent once more. 
> 
> Edit: forgot to mention, motănel means "little tomcat" and is a term of endearment. Gheorghe doesn't tell Johnny what it means.  
>  
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://misskatieleigh.tumblr.com)!


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